Elephants and Canals Churches and Falafel
by Q.E.D. 221B
Summary: A fill for the meme: When you look back on your life, you find that you most often regret the things you didn't do rather than the things you did, even if they led to mistakes. The Holmes Brothers are no exception.


"What about India?"

"Oh we're definitely going to India. They've got elephants too you know?"

"Like in Africa?"

"Yes. However Indian Elephants are smaller and only males have tusks."

"They're not too much smaller are they? Are they bigger than me?" Sherlock asked, eyes widening as he chewed nervously on his plump bottom lip.

Mycroft laughed, ruffling his brother's hair fondly as he scooted over closer to where he was sitting on the mattress.

"Of course they are," he said. "They're bigger than _four_ of you."

"But we can still go to Africa, right?"

"We're absolutely going to Africa. We'll go on a safari in Kenya.

"Or Zimbabwe!"

"Or Botswana."

"Or all of them!"

"All of them sounds good. But we have to visit Bruges first. For the history. The heritage."

"'Kay. And New York."

"And Venice."

"And Norway!"

"Norway?" Mycroft laughed. "Why are we going to Norway?"

"I want to see the Northern Lights."

"I thought you didn't care for that sort of thing. The lesser sciences and all that."

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."

With a shrug, Mycroft chuckled, "Fair enough. Oh, Barcelona!"

"Yeah! And Beirut too- we've run out of pins My."

"I'll get some more tomorrow. But you just keep thinking about it alright."

Sherlock smiled, yawning a little as he smuggled into his brother's side.

"Okay," he murmured.

Mycroft smiled fondly down at him; wrapping a secure arm around narrow shoulders.

"Now go to sleep Brother-Mine," he whispered. "Father is in his study now. They won't fight again."

Sherlock glanced up, eyes (deliberately) wide and pleading.

"Can I stay here?"

Mycroft scoffed, arching a brow.

"You should go to your own," he said.

"Please My."

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes as he grudgingly lifted up the quilt for his brother to dive under.

"…Just this once," he fondly chuckled.

"You always say that," Sherlock boasted, curling up into a tight ball beneath the sheets.

Shaking his head, Mycroft settled down himself, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's shoulders once again.

"You could try to be a little appreciative," he said.

"Thanks My," Sherlock chirped.

Mycroft smiled.

"No problem Brother Dear. Now go to sleep."

Sherlock nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and practicing his breathing techniques in an attempt to calm his mind.

Predictably, he didn't last five minutes.

"My…" he whispered. "We will go someday. Won't we?"

"Of course Sherlock."

"You promise."

"I promise. Just you and me. I swear."

"Just us," Sherlock murmured, burying his face in Mycroft's pillow, but not before he spotted the grin dimpling those rounded cheeks. "I like that. Us against the world."

"Our own adventure. Like the ones from those pirate stories you so enjoy."

"Yeah!"

"Go to sleep Sherlock. We'll get more pins tomorrow."

* * *

"We never did go on the trip," Mycroft murmured to the shadows of his living room, the amber light from the fireplace dancing across his face as he idly spun a globe riddled with bright red push pins piercing its surface. "Did we?"

"You knew as well as I did that we wouldn't," Sherlock replied, wandering over from the drinks cabinet with a snifter of brandy in each hand, holding one out to him. "It was a ridiculously childish fantasy, born from two little boys sick of going to bed listening to Mummy scream and Father slam doors."

Mycroft bowed his head, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I'm aware of that brother dear," he sighed. "But we still wanted to do it. Didn't we?"

Sherlock scoffed, sipping lazily at his drink.

"Yes," he eventually chuckled. "We did. Elephants and canals, churches and falafel. Me and you against the world. Our own big adventure."

Mycroft glanced up.

"I wish we did it. I'm sorry we didn't."

Sherlock shrugged.

"It was inevitable," he murmured, swirling his drink around the glass. "You went to university, got into politics. I developed an addiction. Father died. Mummy cut us off. We couldn't afford it and by the time we could we'd grown up."

"…And apart."

This time it was Sherlock's whose gaze wavered.

"And apart," he quietly echoed.

Mycroft sighed, and took another sip from his glass.

"Do you think things would be different?" Sherlock asked. "If we went anyway. If we just bought a ticket and took it as it came."

"Yes Sherlock, I think things would have been different."

"For the better or for the worst?"

Mycroft laughed.

"Probably both," he replied. "We could have been closer. As close as we were as children. We could have seen things other people, people like us, could only dream of. We could have been so much more. More rounded, down to earth, good men."

Sherlock sighed.

"And the worse?" he asked.

Mycroft smiled.

"We could have become homeless. We could have both developed addictions, ones far more damaging than cocaine and tobacco. We could have fought and parted ways in some far off corner of the planet, never to see each other again. We could have run afoul of undesirable locals. Like I said Sherlock, it could have gone either way."

Sherlock nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the pinpricked globe.

"You kept it though," he said. "The globe. Our fantasy. You've kept it all these years."

Mycroft smiled wistfully and turned his own gaze to the model.

"I did," he murmured. "A little childishness is good for the soul Brother Dear. Even if nothing ever comes of it."

Sherlock scoffed.

For a moment, they lapsed into silence, both fondly remembering decades old conversations and debates, whether India should come first, or Istanbul. Whether they should travel by plane or boat or train. Whether Mycroft would get sea sick like the 'useless old landlubber' he is (not at all like Sherlock, of course. Being the born pirate and all).

"Do you regret it?" he asked, glancing up from the Indian ocean over to his brother. "Not going. I understand what you said. I agree. There are too many variables to predict what the result would have been. Nevertheless, do you regret it?"

A sad smile spread across Mycroft's face.

"Yes," he replied, sending the globe spinning with a gentle flick of his wrist before looking up himself. "I do. I think I always will."


End file.
